The Garden is hidden under a deep, powerful veneer of a city in contemplation. She smiles to give resilience to her children and caresses deepams lit at dusk with a blessing breeze. Of course, people have quantified her with ugly lines and dull colours on parchment, paper and pixels.  Her saree is patterned with history, rain rhythms and the worship of arts. It’s folds and creases host verdant hills, winding roads and wild rivers across the ancient land and beyond. In those special places you’ll hear Her heartbeat – chilanga adorned feet of a Nritta nymph on the floor of the world, the Tha-Dhi-Thom storm-strokes of a mighty mridangam and verses honouring the eternal dance of the universe uttered in the most beautiful of all languages.

Chella Chennai, most graceful and wise, is not without a sense of favouritism. While all are welcome to the city, the Garden and the treasure are only for the favourites. They see the signs long before She’s in sight, like a sudden smirk of blue across the dawn sky towards Her.

(Nritta is the abstract, fast and rhythmic aspect of Bharatanatyam)